


Needs

by handlewithkara



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Bad Flirting, Booty Calls, Cunnilingus, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Humor, Loud Sex, One Night Stands, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara
Summary: Sometimes even a superheroine has needs and so Kara comes up with a plan to recruit herself some R&R.For the kinktober prompt:- Shower/Bath/Underwater
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Mon-El, mentions of Kara Danvers/James Olsen, mentions of Kara Danvers/William Dey
Comments: 57
Kudos: 52
Collections: Kinktober 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the amazing AndromedaSmith for beta reading. She's an amazing writer in her own right. Go over to her and read her stuff.

Kara nips gently on the edge of her cup, her hands tightly wrapped around the brightly colored porcelain. The weather is sunny, the wind is mild, the sun shines friendly rays into her apartment. Kara takes a deep breath.

“I want to get laid again.”

Alex nearly spits her tea across the table. Her eyes are filled with faint horror as she slowly turns around, gulping hard.

Kara sighs as she puts her cup away. It’s not like she doesn’t understand the reaction. After all, this is not normal sisterly couch discussion material. She grabs hold of a pillow and hugs it to her chest. How to put into words the stress she’s feeling, the constant tension in her neck. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs into the edge of the pillow, “I know it’s stupid, I just really miss it.”

“Is this about…?”

“Mon-El? What, no!” A crease appears between her eyes. “This has nothing to do with him.” _With seeing him again, in Myxy’s magical trip down memory lane. Definitely not related._

Alex eyes her from the side. “I was gonna say William.”

“What? Oh. I mean.” Kara rubs her forehead. “I like William. I want to see him again. Just explain to him. I wasn’t being fair. He didn’t deserve being lied to. I don’t want to be held back by guilt anymore.”

She brings her fingers to her mouth and gnaws on her thumbnail. It’s no lie. She does want to see him again. And still, William is not who she’s thinking of right now.

“I deserve this. I mean…” she trails off. “I don’t know whether I can fit my life around a relationship, but I deserve to feel good about myself sometimes, don’t I?”

Alex pulls her into a hug and ruffles her bangs. “Of course you do, dummy.”

*

Kara straightens her back.

 _Great._ Now that she has decided what she wants, got herself Alex’s tacit blessing, the next hurdles appear.

How on earth do you send a random come hither text to the future? There is the ring, the ring he gave to her. Slipped it on her finger so she could fly. No matter. It’s for emergencies only. Real emergencies.

Except now there is another way that has opened up, tantalizing. A friend returned to see Brainy, to tie up loose threads. Kara is happy to see him, this is all it should be, except…

“Winn, hey.” Winn turns to her.

“What’s up?”

Kara smiles awkwardly. “Can you tell Mon-El to stop by? I’d really like to talk to him.”

*

“He’s waiting for you on the balcony.”

The news comes through her earpiece. Kara gulps. She forces her heart to slow, her step to steady. This is not a big deal. She’s a grown woman, an adult, a hero. So what if he came? So what if she called him just to find out how he’d feel about some “adult entertainment”? This is what people do, right? Normal people. No big deal.

The hallways of the DEO bleed into the background as she walks through them. The sound of her boots hitting the floor feels loud, much too loud to her ears.

Kara stares at his back before approaching him. The long cape, the broad shoulders, they make him look a massive mountain, threatening to be insurmountable, still begging to be scaled. _This is ridiculous,_ she tells herself. She can’t just call up her old boyfriend (her one boyfriend) (her only boyfriend) (ex) (totally ex) for a booty call. But … she really, really wants to. It’s like an indescribable taste, that she just wants to keep on poking at with her tongue, both strange and oh so familiar.

_William…_

Just thinking about him makes Kara feel overwhelmed. What does he expect from her? Is she ready to go down that road again, like with James? What if William really is interested? Can she go through dating him, seeing him, talking to him, while hiding a huge part of herself? How can she not give that up, this secret that any normal, any civilian dating her would like to know? How will he take it? How soon to tell him? What will he think? How long is too long a time passed to tell him?

Her belly twists up nervously, remembering how it felt to yearn for James. Can she do that again? Sit on the sidelines, wishing, unsure whether things are even possible between them? Whether getting carried away and kissing him, embracing him, could break his nose or worse? She hasn’t broken a nose like that in a long time, and Kara isn’t sure whether she can be like that again. How to explain…? But what other option is there?

Even if she goes for William, which she wants to, yes she wants to, even if he’ll be good about it, and he might, a hopeful spark in her chest tells her that he might, he could be, she can already tell that it will be slow, it will be frustrating. Agonizing maybe. There will be many lonely nights, thinking about him, wishing for his touch. Kara isn’t sure she can go through that. Not after what feels like the world’s longest dry spell. How is she even supposed to listen to anything her sexy British reporter co-worker says when she’s that on edge, that starved for contact? That ready to explode. How can she not break him without meaning to?

 _Dammit,_ Kara clears her throat and takes up her position next to her futurebound guest.

“Thank you for coming.”

He turns to her. “Yes, Winn told me, but he couldn’t tell me what it was about.” His eyebrows narrow. “I assume this is an emergency?”

_Tell me about it._

_I saw you. I saw you again._

“Not exactly?”

_That’s why I didn’t use the ring._

He’s confused by her words, she can read it in his eyes. So long apart and this is what you call me for? Is that what he’s thinking, what he will be thinking? Kara stands in front of him tongue-tied, unsure how to broach the subject of her intent. Maybe if she tells herself that he is a stranger, this Mon-El of Daxam, Leader of the Legion, superhero from the future. A different one, not _her_ Mon-El, no not at all. “Uhm, you look good, you, you’ve been working out,” she blurts out.

His eyes widen in surprise and he stares at her. _Dammit, dammit, dammit, not a great intro._

“Thank you?”

“Yeah, uhm,…“ She stretches out her arms in a fake yawn and rubs the back of her neck. “Things, they’ve just been really exhausting lately. I was wondering whether you might be …” _single. Above all, single._ “free to…” Kara coughs. Her face is hot and there is no way she is finishing that sentence.

His mouth is hanging open in shock, she just knows it. Knows that he knows, knows how to make the right assumptions. He fidgets, shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m, I’m really flattered,” he stutters.

This is the moment where every instinct tells Kara to jump back and exclaim “No, no, you misunderstood.” It’s clearly what Mon-El is expecting as he regards her with a curious gaze. She could do that. Weasel out. Go back to the start. Make up an excuse. Go back to the good well-behaved superheroine who is totally in charge of herself, who would never do something as foolish as be swayed by her libido.

Except… That wouldn’t get her where she wants to be. Embarrassed heat threatens to travel up Kara’s throat and she begins to sweat somewhere at the nape of her neck.

“Uhm, yes”, is what she settles on. Seconds drip past arduously as he stares at her, blinking in confusion. And then slowly, slowly but surely…

“Stop smiling!” she yells.

Mon-El presses his lips together and looks away. “I’m not smiling.”

“Yes, you are!” Kara takes a deep breath. Clenches her fists. Whirls around and stomps off.

_No way. No way, José. Not like this._

“Kara, please!” Her heart flutters a little bit when she hears his steps, telling her that he is right behind her. She keeps it up till they are out of the room, and in the next narrow hallway before stopping and turning around on her heel, causing him to almost bump into her. She can _see_ the way his breath gets caught in his throat and something deep inside of her twists and squeezes in response.

“I just want to … “ she murmurs as she leans in close, her voice dropping down to a husky whisper. Kara is grateful that Mon-El is easy, that she has to say no more, that her eyes are saying everything that needs to be said.

“My place? Fifteen minutes? We leave separately?”

Mon-El nods. He turns to greet an agent passing them by, before returning his gaze back to her. “Fifteen minutes?” he huskily confirms one last time and she nods.

“Good. See you there.”

Kara’s face is hot and red. _I can’t believe I’m doing this,_ she thinks as she watches him walk away, so calm, effortlessly hiding the true nature of their conversation. Her thoughts are buzzing in her brain. Is this what Alex was picturing when her dear little sister blurted out her plans back at the loft?

*

He arrives through her window, still all suited up and it does funny things to the pit of her stomach when she takes him in with her eyes.

“Right on time.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Kara steps forward, slowly circling around him.

“If you start grinning again, this whole deal is off,” she threatens.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He manages to pull that sentence off without blinking.

“Good.”

Kara relaxes. There’s nothing wrong with this. At least this is what she tells herself. They are grown, professional adults, unattached, sane, meeting up for a bout of consensual sex. Nobody has a right to judge her, Kara decides. This, this will be her first time having sex for the sake of sex itself. For the first time, sex without love. As strange at it might seem, the thought is kind of intriguing.

She stops her circling and runs her palm over Mon-El’s chest, feeling the material. _Fucking Winn_ and his take on an all too form-fitting supersuit. Her gaze flickers to Mon-El’s lips. They look so soft. So familiar. They carry so much history.

“No, no kissing,” Kara mumbles absent-minded, lost in the view. “On the mouth,” she clarifies. It seems like a clever idea, a way to protect herself, to stress that things are different this time. The idea of teasing him like that, of giving in to him, but not all, not everything, is strangely exciting.

Mon-El nods. He pulls her in, hand first on her arm then sliding up to the back of her neck. He tilts her head forward before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead as she yields to the motion, then freezes.

It’s galling, if you think about it. How can a gesture be both condescending and hot at the same time? His lips move to kiss her brow, the tip of her nose, wanders over to kiss the tender skin over her cheekbones and then the corner of her mouth only to linger. Kara sucks in a deep breath and wonders whether that playful little rule of hers was a colossal mistake.

Just before she can turn her face towards him, into him, towards his enticing mouth, he pulls away.

“I’m good with that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Their capes hang side by side over the back of her chair, a superhero pastiche of tranquil domesticity.

Kara wonders whether she should turn her back to him to take off her clothes. She never did that when they were together. Too new to it, too curious, way too eager not to miss any moment, that was what she was like back then. And now? What use is there to modesty when there’s nothing to her that Mon-El hasn’t seen before?

 _No more overthinking,_ Kara vows and yanks her panties down her legs almost defiantly, freeing herself of her last bit of clothing.

Should she cross her arms over her chest? Put her hands on her hips seductively? No matter. He’s slower than her this time, giving her a chance to let her gaze wander over him as she waits. His familiar form sheds his clothes, clothes tight enough to look like they were painted on his skin.

And just like that, he stands before her again, pure and naked except for …

“Look,” Kara says, finding it hard to meet his eyes. “Can, um, can you take it off? Just, you know, during.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He pulls the thin silver chain over his head and places it on her nightstand. “Better?”

“Mmm,” she nods. She steps closer. Her fingers flit across his shoulders as she offers him her lips for a kiss. _Drats._ She freezes. Couldn’t even last five minutes without almost undermining her own rule. Worst of all, Mon-El caught it too, because he smiles and looks away.

 _Time to deflect._ Kara bites her lips and spins around, fast enough for her hair to breeze over his chest. She turns her back to him pointedly and makes a show of climbing into bed, knees and hands first, resting herself down on her belly, knees bent like an old fashioned centerfold. Let him watch. Wiggle just a little bit. Make him want. Fight the urge to look over her shoulder.

 _Don’t look at him. Don’t look at his cock._ The mattress feels cool and firm against her skin. She has to admit, she’s slightly wet already, the inherent forbidden tension of their situation enough to send her juices flowing.

Kara rests her cheek onto her pillow. There. Let him look. She hears the rustle of his movement, as he mounts the bed next to her. Her pulse quickens as she fights to control her breathing. Little goosebumps break out across her body in anticipation of his touch. This kind of touch. The erotic, the sexual kind. It’s been so long.

His hand gently roves over her naked back and his voice is so low and soft it makes her toes curl. “Tell me what you want, Kara.”

She buries her face deeper into her pillow and mumbles something unintelligible. She can basically hear his frown. His fingers tap a soft reminder against her shoulder blades. “I can’t hear you,” he whispers right behind her ear, “And I can’t give you what you want, if you won’t tell me.”

Kara twists around, just barely enough to free her mouth. “Just, you know, do it.” Her ears grow hot and red. “Fuck me,” she mouths voicelessly, her eyelids squeezed tightly shut. Kara holds her breath while she expects his reaction. There’s only the stilling of his hand, the complete freeze of movement.

Well, let him be shocked. What is it to him if all she wants is a good hard fucking? Cock. His cock. In her pussy. Filling her. She’s fuming quietly on the inside as she waits for him. For him to make up his damn mind as a spark almost like electricity moves through her body, stoking the fires inside. And then …

 _Yes, yes, at last._ The hand on her back begins moving again and then there is a hot, wet mouth against the back of her neck, nipping gently. Her skin is on fire and her hips jerk in response.

“Just make it good,” she whispers. _Don’t make me wait._ Maybe he needs this kind of encouragement and so she babbles. “Want it. Want it so much.” She’s never been much good at sexy talk, always felt stupid and self-conscious. It seems he can appreciate her token effort.

She can feel his lips twisting into a smile against her back. And she kind of wants to slap his head over it? But she also kind of wants him to get going? With a sigh Kara opts to wriggle her behind at him some more. “Come on, Mon!” she growls hoarsely. _Don’t keep a lady waiting._ Her tongue feels dry and wanting. Why does he have to make it hard for her?

His fingertips ghost along her back, closely followed by his lips. Together the two familiar strangers travel along her spine, across her buttocks, along the back of her legs, caress the hollow of her knee, making things spark inside of her. He grips her feet and she keens when he starts to massage her sensitive soles. Kara nearly soars off the bed when his lips come to follow.

 _Faster, faster, more_ Kara thinks as his lips travel down her leg and her hips go wild, rubbing, pleading, writhing. Finally Mon-El comes over her, draping himself over her back like a shadow. She gasps when his cock drags along the inside of her thighs and then his cockhead teases playfully at her slit. Her insides ache, begging to be filled at last.

“Hurry!” she grinds out. Kara thinks she can positively _feel_ his smirk, but it’s late, too late to make a fuss, to get mad at him, not now when she’s so close, when his fingers do magic against her skin. He teases, of course he teases - what did she expect, he is Mon-El - rocking his hips. Kara grits her teeth, she’s close, so fucking close to levitating, levitating both of them off the bed, to just turn around and throw him…

“You good?” he asks, accentuating his movements with little strokes of his hand. Kara paws at the bed sheet and spits out “Yessssss!” all too fast, battling the temptation to yell at him.

Finally his hips do what they are supposed to do: drive forward, stretch her, fill her up inside. Her head falls forward. Shoulders arch.

Kara blinks, open mouthed. Maybe this is the part where she should be complaining about not enough foreplay. Except her mind is busy trying to grasp the sensation between her legs. Panting, Kara feels her tongue. She squirms underneath his weight, trying to rub her clit, her breasts against the fabric as she moans some more into her pillow and she tries to deal with the almost hypnotic and and out. So this is what they mean when they talk about being fucked into the mattress.

Kara’s toes curl as she ruts helplessly, trying to get herself the necessary friction. She forgot how good Mon is at this. They’ve definitely never done anything like this before, but why should she be surprised when it’s just a different kind of good. Grunts and keening noises spill from Kara’s throat as the expression ‘biting the pillow’ acquires a new, now very real meaning, the pillow case’s fabric almost impossibly rough against her face.

Mon-El feels huge, enormous, enveloping her, covering her with his bulk. Kara’s lips pulsate, feel swollen, hungry. She needs to touch them, caress them with her own fingers while they want for his kiss.

He moves, removing himself almost entirely and Kara’s eyes roll back in her head. _Oh right,_ she forgot it feels even better on the way out. She gives up and surrenders herself, lets her mind white out and slides deep into the moment. That moment where the world just stops, where she stops thinking. No longer caring whether they look or sound like tramps or idiots. Just lost within the sensation, within her own body. To just _be_. Open. Wanton. Herself. Ready to gush obscenely onto her sheets, moaning loudly. Swept away by his touch. Ready for her teeth to clatter and her tongue to pant dryly when his familiar shaft returns back inside, filling her obscenely well, more complete and methodically slow than she thought she ever wanted.

Her buttocks twitch as if they could urge him to go faster, till her muscles surrender when his cock rubs tortuously along all the spots that make her see stars.

*

“Can I use your shower?”

Kara blinks. “Sure?”

Mon-El nods slightly and rises. Kara curls up on her side under the covers, watchfully spectating the sight of him as he walks towards her bathroom. She hears him rummaging through the drawers and it occurs to her that this might be one upside of having your hasty one night stand tumble with the guy you used to love. At least he knows where everything is.

Inside her bathroom the shower spay bursts to life, followed by Mon-El’s pleased groan. On a whim Kara rises and toddles after him. As she slides open the door, the room is steamed up, bustling with the sound of falling water. Kara makes a beeline for the bathtub and places her hands against the curtain, behind it the naked male shape, water torrenting down his skin.

Curtain parted, Kara slips inside, her body pressed against his back as her arms slip around him; he turns his head and she catches his lips in a kiss.

Five seconds.

That’s just about how long it takes her to realize that she has broken her own rule. About two seconds more to decide that she doesn’t care. Not when his mouth feels heavenly and hungry against hers, not when he turns around to embrace her, not when his hands roam across her back like that. Her breasts ache sweetly, yearningly, as they rub against his chest while the water sluices down their bodies.

Kara runs her flat palm over his shoulder, her thumb running along the collarbone. She strokes along his neck and notes that it feels like it’s missing something. She brings her lips close to his ear. “Put it back on,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and throaty. “You look naked without it.”

Mon-El throws his head back and laughs. Kara pauses, then scowls at him as he saunters out of the shower spreading droplets all over her bath and bedroom floor. She brings her fingers up to her mouth and chews on them, as if to remind herself that she’s awake. Her heart races. The water and air feel so much colder without him. He’s back barely fast enough to stop Kara from pacing.

Like a greedy gollum she runs her hand over the flimsy little chain, rediscovering it with her touch. Mon-El’s hand slides underneath her buttocks. He lifts her up and enters her in one sure, experienced stroke. Kara gasps against his mouth and tries very hard not to remember how much they laughed and joked and quarreled till they had this down pat.

Mon-El backs her up against the wall and the tiles are cool and smooth against her shoulder blades as the water pelts down on them. Kara grips his hair with one hand as the other roams along his shoulders and down his back, his skin so smooth, so wet. Her body responds eagerly, her legs wrap around him with practiced ease. And oh, how they practiced this. Over and over, arguing about the perfect mechanics of good shower sex. By now, they are goddamn champions at it and it seems like some skills you really never lose.

Her thoughts carry only so far and then he’s inside of her again. Kara grabs the railing to steady herself. So perfect. So slippery around each other, holding each other in a desperate grip. His hand on her ass steadies her, lifts her effortlessly, drops her down again. It’s hungry and it’s messy, tight. Her back arches as her heels cross behind him. Kara bounces, up and down, using his hair, his back as a handle, grateful for her powers.

They agreed, way back when, that he needs both his hands to stay upright and hold her, so she needs to put work in herself. She used to argue that he needed to do it, but it ended with multiple tumbles on the floor, broken railings and torn shower curtains.

Kara gulps down air and running water, vying for control against the metronomic thrusts of his hips. She drops herself down onto him, over and over, impaling herself. It feels primal, dirty. Kara gnaws on his shoulder, her hand digs into him, yanks, becomes even more determined, cruel. She lets the waters and his closeness seduce her as she chases her peak relentlessly, furiously. Her clit burns. Even with all the water sluicing down her body, it burns, maddened from the lack of touch.

It’s a challenge to come like this, just from mashing herself against his body while her clit pulses with hot need when both their hands are needed to hold on. To come like this just from the way her insides convulse and cling to him, try to drag him deeper while he fills her, fills her so good. Mon-El still knows her spots, knows her rhythms. Kara wants to scream and cry and praise him for it as she gasps for air.

It could be so easy. If he just let her down, if he just turned her around. A few strokes of his thumb and she’d probably come howling. This way Mon-El keeps her teetering on the edge, burning. Her lips pulse in synch with her clit, as blood rushes through them. Kara suckles drops of moisture off his shoulder, off his cheek, her hands sliding over his skin in search of a tighter grip and the water, always the water, caressing. She throws herself into Mon-El’s thrusts, wants to fuse her body against his, to rid herself of the scorching of her skin.

Kara is _never_ that noisy during sex. Except each thrust drives a hungry moan from her mouth. Is this what it means to fuck? To stop caring about his needs, about whether he likes it too, whether she looks good to him, to let all that fall away in the pursuit of that one all encompassing need? She bites and claws and drowns her screams deep in his kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

“What do we do now?”

The dreaded question. He asks it afterwards, when they are back in bed, after a bout of drying with the help of superspeed twirls and bickering as they change the sheets. As he slipped between the covers it occurred to her that maybe that is where she should have drawn the line, this is the part she shouldn’t have allowed to happen. That that was the moment where she should have told him to go.

But now he’s here and her heart beats heavy in her throat.

Part of her was looking forward to that part, of having that power to send him away again. On her terms. After what happened, after she kissed him, after she let him slip on the necklace, can it be anything but mockery?

 _William. Think of William,_ Kara tries to remind herself.

Her eyes wander over Mon-El’s chest and she thinks about how much she just wants to rest her head on it. To not answer. To not think.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow she could have an answer, or at least the strength to utter it out loud. Except early morning is closer now than late night. What excuse does she have to offer up to Mon-El’s expectant eyes, to the hands that stroke her cheek, her hair. Her fingers travel forth, to touch his lips, stroke across him, as her breath hitches.

She could go to sleep. Close her eyes. Feign tiredness. It wouldn’t be hard. Except adrenaline is still spiking through her system, still making her breathe fast, still making her toes curl. Still making her eyes hungry for his face. Once more she strokes across his mouth, almost wondrously. Trying not to look down, not to think about the golden glint of the necklace against his chest.

They, they haven’t really agreed on whether kissing outside the bathroom is okay. It, it probably shouldn’t be. Seems Mon-El is bold enough to want to know, because he slides closer, right underneath her covers, right into her personal space, stopping just short of her face. His lips a silent offering. An offering of defiance to her own words. Kara wants to glower at him in anger, but the best-laid plans of mice and men do as people say.

The heat between their bodies molds them together as they sink against each other, her mouth against his, his tongue stroking against hers. Kara’s pulse races. He feels so right there, right between her legs. _Nonononononono,_ her mind yelps. _Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,_ her sex drive counters. Her breath falters and something shorts out in the brain when he begins to kiss his way down her throat, down her body.

Kara wants to open her mouth, to remind him that they _just_ changed the sheets. If he gets started now, he’ll take forever. And going down on her, giving head, always makes him horny and so when he’s done, he’ll want to do it, will want to _fuck_ her again. Kara knows from experience that if they aren’t careful, they can go at this for hours, imbued with endless energy and super healing for their aching limbs.

There’s an article to finish and a staff meeting at ten and, and, and …

“Mon, Mon-El?”

He looks up from between her legs.

Kara licks her lips, as she tries to formulate her request. “Don’t, don’t be too sweet? Please?”

Mon-El’s eyes go blank and his brow furrows in confusion. Heat flushes up her cheeks. “Just, just be you know, hot.” That’s what she wants. Not the aching pain of love and loss. Only the mind-bending, scorching heat of desire to burn away all second thoughts.

Mon-El nods slowly, before lowering his head back down again. The muscles in Kara’s belly flutter in anticipation. She remembers, oh she remembers.

He rubs his face into her belly, travels higher, making a short stop at her breasts. He’s remembered that she’s not the biggest fan of tasting herself on his lips. The thought of it makes her insides tingle as she watches him caress her nipple and suckle on the tender underside of her right breast, cleaning himself in the process, while his hands, oh, his perfect hands have taken over the ministrations between her cleft. They stroke tirelessly, keep her constantly on that high, keep the fires burning. In return he’s allowed one last visit to her mouth before Kara pushes against his chest and gently nudges him towards where he’s supposed to go.

Mon-El takes the hint and dives back down between her legs. At last he begins licking her in earnest. He laps along her folds and then his pointed tongue starts to tease around that hot, tight nub, that little center of sensitive nerves. Kara’s hands shoot up to her face. Her back arches. The backs of her knees hit the mattress as she bucks towards him. It’s not her nature to be very loud during sex, why would it be different today? Except today is not like any other day.

Her little nub, cherished now and worshipped after the neglect it had to endure. She has always expected to feel helpless during this, like a pinned butterfly trapped in a glass case, powerless victim of her lust. Instead the heat pulses through her body, warms her skin. Kara surges towards him, slick and wet, and her desire feels like strength, not weakness.

It was one of the many things she used to be ashamed of, ashamed of her body’s reaction when he touched her there. Not tonight. Not anymore. She moans for him, lets him hear just how good she feels. To love him, to love _sex_ without love.

She screams till her voice is hoarse and her thighs are shaking.

*

“I had a really nice time.” Kara shuffles on her feet. “Thank you for coming by and, um, helping me out.”

“Sure.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Any time.”

Her hands clutch his shoulders and she tries hard not to think about his hands ending up on her midriff. Mon-El has trouble meeting her eyes, as much as she has trouble meeting his. And so they sway, fingers dancing lightly.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” he says with a certain roughness in his voice.

Kara nods and swallows hard. She should have expected something like that. There should be a strange finality to this, to the knowledge that this might, once again, be the last. The one thing that is going to truly turn them from former lovers into acquaintances. So why is she still swaying, avoiding, ducking her head? Looking anywhere but into Mon-El’s eyes.

“Um, give Winn my best?”

“I will.”

They kiss one last time. Kara is … surprised. It’s strangely deep and intense. Purposeful. Not sweet and yearning like she expected. There is tension in Mon-El’s lips and an unfamiliar hunger. He kisses her like she’s a project, a puzzle to be figured out. As if he could map her mouth with his tongue.

His hand sneaks down to cup her ass.

 _Winn, think of Winn,_ she tells herself. _Wait, William. His name is William._ William who is waiting for her, her favorite cup of coffee already purchased, ready for them to dive into investigating the next big story.

He’ll be good for her, Kara tells herself. A good challenge. Yes, exactly. A way to fully commit to Earth, to Kara Danvers, to being human.

It might be a challenge to her human heart, but she’s better now, stronger.

Strong enough to accept this lingering goodbye for what it is, a goodbye.

“We good?” she asks after gently pulling out of his kiss.

“Yeah,” Mon-El says and lets go of her butt. “We’re good.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Answered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933962) by [AndromedaSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaSmith/pseuds/AndromedaSmith)




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